Page 22 of Ruthless Vow

Vito might not see what I did on the yacht as a kindness since he doesn’t know what the alternative was, and I totally get that. If I were Vito, I’d hate me too.

“You won’t believe me, but I did that to actually save your ass.” It had been a choice between drugged or dead. I’d had to use all my wiles to convince my aunt that drugged was better, that wiping out anyone other than Leo at that moment would actually work against our goals. And I’d had to do that convincing through the intermediary that she allowed me to talk to rather than directly.

“You did it to save my ass. Sure. Whatever you say.” He pauses. “I used to think you were nice.”

Me too,I think.But that was a long, long time ago.

He leads me out of the room. We wander for a while. Turn right. Turn left. Go up stairs. Go down stairs. I can’t be certain, but I think we actually end up on the same floor we started on, that he’s been leading me around just to confuse me. I stumble on my feet a couple times, and only Vito’s iron grip on my upper arm keeps me upright.

When we stop, I hear the sound of beeps. An electronic door lock. Then the sound of a door opening. A less than gentle shove.

“When will Leo be—?” I begin.

The sound of the door closing is my only reply. I reach for the blindfold and pull it from my eyes. Vito’s gone. I turn to see I’m in a room, which looks like an inexpensive hotel room. Beige walls. Beige floor. Beige ceiling. Not even a slight color variation to break up the monotony. Double bed, an armchair, a chest of drawers. A small bathroom with a shower, no tub.

But I know immediately it’s not a hotel room. This is a holding room for prisoners.

Just like in the room where I was kept handcuffed, there are no windows here.

No TV. No reading material—no books or magazines or even a city guide.

No mirror in the bathroom. Makes sense. A shattered piece of mirror could make an excellent weapon.

I turn a full circle.

There is no way out. And even if I could find a way out, I’ve exhausted all my ideas. I’ve failed at every attempt to reach my aunt. I have no idea how to find Bianca. How to find Sofia.

Desperation crashes through me in a sudden surge.

I sink down on the edge of the bed.

“Think, Nicole, think,” I whisper to myself.

I don’t know what game Leo is playing, what outcome he intends with his mind tricks…

Does he think I’ll reach for the hope he’ll let me live?

I’ve learned the hard way that hope is like the dessert menu at a lousy restaurant—alluring, but ultimately painfully disappointing.

Leo’s going to kill me for what I did. To believe there’s any other outcome to this would be delusional.

I’m going to die, and Sofia is going to be on her own. That is, if she’s even still alive.

8

Leo

At midnight,I head west into the desert on a ribbon of road that’s weathered and cracked from years of punishing sun and scalding heat. In my rear-view mirror, the lights of Las Vegas create a hazy orange smudge on the horizon. I’ve passed one car in the past half hour. Traffic is sparse this far outside Vegas city limits. Endless sand stretches in either direction, grayish-silver under the light of the moon, the expanse interrupted by jagged rocks, dunes, scrub brush and the occasional Joshua tree. The feeling of isolation is utter and complete.

I’ve left the windows of the Porsche open. The air is cool and smells like sage and mesquite. I try to focus on the wind in my hair, the smell of the air, the feel of the car responding as I push it faster. But instead, I keep thinking of Nicole and that kiss. That fucking kiss. The sounds she made as I ravaged her mouth, taking what I wanted.

I want to take every part of her.

Fuck.

I turn off State Route 160 onto a two-lane road and a few moments later, take an unmarked dirt turnout. There, I stop and turn off the engine, then get out of the car and wait.

I don’t wait long. A black Audi e-tron pulls in behind me.

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